


A Grey Alligator

by blasphemattock



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Animal Death, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Coming of Age, Family Issues, First Person, Gender Dysphoria, Gore, Horror, Mental Health Issues, Monsters, Murder, Other, character backstory, creature feature
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-10-12 02:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17459204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blasphemattock/pseuds/blasphemattock
Summary: A short backstory on an OC I created for a favorite game, Dead By Daylight, greatly motivated by my good friend deadrence (both here and tumblr- I recommend her similar fic Incidental Attractions!)Though this is a small piece of something bigger that is in progress involving [SPOILERS], it's a very important piece of this character that I've been working on for about a year now, and I couldn't just continue on with their life in the Entity's Realm without telling the story of how they got there...I've applied some warnings in tags, but I can't stress enough how emotional, stressful and nostalgic this is for me as the writer and how the scenes that play out are written because of it- read at your own discretion, but also enjoy and thanks again to my friends who finally nudged me to write it all and those reading~





	1. Who Was I

I remember a lot from being a kid, more than I wanted to. I can recall almost every sprain, fall, busted lip and shocked nerve that came with growing up in the country, but I don’t remember anyone else having done it the same- with no one in the world to experience childhood with but your own mother and brother, you assume that the way you live is normal, so who was I to complain?

I grew up in Louisiana, where stepping outside frequently meant getting ankles deep in warm marshy water. I went without shoes most of the time because it’d just ruin them, and when I was much younger and could get away with it, a shirt too. It was just too hot to wear a bunch, so a pair of overalls was my favorite outfit- no more no less. Once I hit about eleven years old my mama told me if I wasn’t wearing a shirt I wasn’t allowed out of my room, and especially not around my brother or his friends. Even though I understand now that I was growing up and so was my body, little me just whined about the heat and was forced to settle for a spaghetti string top, with the straps tied together in a knot in the back to keep from drooping and revealing my developing chest.

My older brother Bradley was aggressive, and so were his buddies- and even though I had no friends of my own otherwise, I was glad to be away from them whenever I could be. Despite that I couldn’t help but follow when they’d run off into the woods or down to the bridge over the river, where they’d throw rocks at fish and take a swim. One time we decided to explore a little further than we were allowed to- to a quarry on the other side of the land.

The quarry was deep and lined with jagged rocks, if we were to stumble and fall it’d most likely be fatal for how small and scrawny we were. My big brother and I marched on anyway.

“If you tell mama we were here, I’ll beat your nose in- okay?” He pointed an accusatory finger at me until I nodded, then turned on his heel and continued on the grassy path around the edge of the rocky slope. 

The rocks looked scary, but at the bottom was calm blue water that when compared to the muggy browns and greens of the swamp looked beautiful as it reflected the cloudless Summer sky. With the sun beating down on my back I craved taking a dip in something other than shallow swamp water.

“Are we swimming today bubba?” I stumbled after him, my small feet easily wiggling side to side in his hand-me-down sneakers as we walked over bumpy terrain.

“Nuh-uh, if we go back home in wet clothes mama will be pissed, we’re just looking today.”

I look down at the sparkling water longingly. It had to be over ninety degrees out, and at 9am it was only going to get hotter as we explored.

I started to slow down and looked around for a safe spot to lower my way down to the waters edge, and just beyond some low hanging bushes I saw the perfect path. Without my brother realizing I sat on down and inched myself through the bushes on my butt, not getting up until I found the opportunity to stand without tripping. I shakily stand, hands spread at my sides like a bird to balance myself and I took a few steps before I found it more comfortable to scoot along again. I was coming closer to the bottom, about halfway there, when I reached a good spot to stand again. Before I can completely straighten out my legs, my brothers cracking voice boomed over the rocks at me.

“Odie! What the hell did I tell you!”

His tone and volume startled me and I whipped around to look at him, perhaps too quickly. I felt myself waver, and then I went from staring wide-eyed at my brother at the top of the ridge to watching in horror as the sky was all I could see- then rocks, then bushes, and then more rocks, before my body finally came to a stop at a dry, brushy ledge. I slowly sat up and looked back at him before examining myself, and it wasn’t until he came dashing down the rocks that I looked at my battered legs and hands that I started bawling my eyes out.

“Fucking dumbass now we’re getting it!” 

He refused to carry me past the quarry path. Once we reached the usual swampy ground a few minutes from home he stopped being my crutch and I was made to walk on my bloody legs until we made it back to our own yard. My sobbing had quieted down a bit, but I was still whining in pain. I went to rub the tears off of my face but only dirtied it further with the blood and dirt from my hands, and I whined louder.

“Bubba I can’t walk any more... “ I cried to him, but he was a good meter ahead of me, as if he didn’t want to be seen with me like this.

“Grow up, we’re almost there.”

Another sob welled up in my chest and I forced myself forward, my muscles burning and screaming for a rest, but if he wasn’t going to carry me I had no choice but to go forward on my own- where there was blood in the water there were predators waiting to snatch kids like me up. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, there was a splash on a muddy bank somewhere to my right. I froze in place and stared in the direction the sound had come from.

Alligators.

I started walking again, faster despite the burning pain, and eventually caught up to my brother as we approached our sunbathed backyard. As soon as we’d reached safety I started bawling again and sat down on our back stoop until our mom swung the screen door open and stomped down the porch to see what the commotion was about.

“What did you do to your sister!” My mom was immediately screaming at my brother, who without hesitation screamed back.

“I didn’t do anything she’s just a dumbass!”

“You watch your language mister! I call her that but you are her brother and she is your responsibility if y'all decide to take off to God knows where!”

The usual argument carried out and I still sat between them, sobbing and trying to clean the blood off of myself.

Eventually he stomped off, picking up his bowie knife and trekking back into the woods, hitting things with the blade along the way. My mom gripped me under the arms and dragged my inside and placed me on the kitchen counter. She started preparing a sink of hot soapy water and got an old rag to clean me up. I winced and whined every time the rag touched my wounds and after seeing how bad they were after the blood was wiped away, I couldn’t help but cry more.

“You stop that, do you know why this happened? Huh?”

I shook my head, no matter how I answered I knew more yelling was to come.

“It’s because y’all aren’t careful, y’all do shit you aren’t supposed to and then this happens… Y’all are both dumbasses.”

My heart was racing and my stomach ached, if there was a pain worse than getting beaten up by rocks it was being scolded and embarrassed. I went to rub my head as I subconsciously do when spoken to, and pull my hand away to see even more blood. My mom scoffs loudly and lifts me off the counter.

“Alright, dammit, bath time then.”

***

I sat in the tub a good while alone, my fresh set of clothes waiting on top of the sink. My mother had gone to do other things and left me to tend to myself, but I couldn't find it in me to mind in that moment. I didn't want to move, my skin stung too much to leave the comfort of the warm water despite the muddy red-brown color it had changed to.

A good thirty minutes probably passed by while I sat and allowed the water to cool off and the skin of my toes and fingers to crinkle up. I tapped each finger to my lip absentmindedly and joked to myself how they felt like raisins. After another moment of playing with my funny skin I hopped out and dressed myself and spent even more empty time staring into the cracked mirror, brushing out my drippy black hair.

This was a normal day, in my supposedly normal life.

I was battered and bruised, the sound of my family constantly screaming in my head ironically played over the memory of running around outside and having fun, but at the end of it all I was crawling into bed and exchanging “I love you, good night” with the same mother whose voice was calling me dumbass over and over again, and then again the same mother who would lovingly prepare my breakfast and send me out to play in the morning.

Who was I to complain.


	2. Sudden Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter than the last, but a very important event still to Odessa's story to show a better look at the kind of relationship they have with their mother- and it's not a good one.

I knew my mama disliked me.

It wasn’t that she had a rough exterior or that she just hated everyone, but the relationship she had with me specifically was… Not good, and never really had been. I believed that maybe it was because I was a reminder of the man that she lost- the one good man that was ever in her life, not my brothers father but my own. I was talked about a lot in public, probably because I was the only girl my age and most kids in town were boys. Mama’s friends would coo at me as I got older, telling me how big I was getting and trying to get me excited about doing activities viewed as feminine.

“This is the first time I’ve seen Odie out in a dress,” They’d gush about me when we go out to dinner, “She’s gotten so pretty!”

“She looks like her daddy,” My mom would respond flatly, not even looking at me.

It was true though, I was mixed and had a Vietnamese father who obviously looked nothing like mama, so other than the things I inherited from my her I was a miniature of him. The only thing I had really inherited from my mama was her green eyes and the shape of my mouth, gapped teeth and all- everything else belonged to him, and I think she hated me for it. I used to try and make her happy, but unless I just stayed away from her I ended up being called names, told not to do this or that, or treated more like a neglected dog than a child as a whole. We were like two strangers who occasionally shared a child guardian moment together, but nothing more.

She only seemed to care when I was doing something she didn’t like. She’d pick my clothes, do my hair, tell me what I could do outside and then send me out for the day- and if I diverged from that, I was suddenly doing something wrong. But I was a child, and if she didn’t say I couldn’t do something, it meant that surely it was okay.

It was a hotter day than normal, a middle-of-July peak of heat kind of day. I was sent to play outside until it was time for lunch and not to set a foot indoors before then, but even though my hair was braided and I was wearing my usual overalls with that ugly tied spaghetti string underneath, I thought the heat might just kill me. My brother was not around that day so the swimming hole was not an option, and going inside only to risk a swat and scolding was off the list as well. My hair was sticking to my back and everywhere else I set it, I eventually started tearing it from the loose braid altogether out of frustration, but now I was just matted in sweaty sticky hair.

There was only one thing to do now.

In the shack across the yard I remembered there were excess kitchen utensils and other old and rusted household items. I started across the mushy grass and slipped through the shack door, checking back at the porch to see if my mama had caught me going in. I was safe. 

Once inside I poked through the boxes and drawers until I came upon a pair of scissors. I remembered this pair, used to help cut through chicken meat. Today it would be for an at-home haircut. The blades were only a little rusty, easy enough to open and close and surely sharp enough to cut through hair. I grabbed as much as I could in one hand and prepared it on the back of my neck. Going slowly and doing my best not to nick myself, I began chopping off the entire chunk. It as going to be uneven, I knew that much, but the feeling of my long, hot black hair rolling down my back and onto the floor was freeing. I now had a jagged bobcut, so I made another attempt to round it all out. I was snipping away in every spot, and before I know it I was left with a scraggly boys cut.

I was so relieved, running my sticky hair covered fingers through my new do, more excited to go back out in the sun- until something hit me. Hair doesn’t grow back whenever you want it to, for all my kid brain knew, it would be this short forever, and my heart leapt into my throat.

Mama was going to see it at some point.

I started to hyperventilate and kicked my old hair aside until it was out of sight. The evidence was (mostly) gone, but there was still the issue of the hair that was left on my head. I was already crying as if she was yelling at me right then, but I would have to face the real thing at some point. I just wasn’t prepared for it.

Her voice rang out from the back porch, beckoning me to come get food, but my little body was too racked with fear to think about moving. She must have heard me crying, because the sound of her boots sloshing across the yard were coming closer.

“Odessa where the hell are you? Are you okay?”

I braced myself, clenched my jaw a little too tight and threw my arms up over my head before she threw the shack door open.

“C’mon didn’t you hear me calling? What’s the matter with you-” She finally noticed, her concerned expression turning to something more severe. My blood ran cold.

She grabbed me by the wrist and yanked me out into the sunlight, new hairdo exposed. She stared down at me in disbelief.

“What the hell is this!” She shrieked and shook me, not even waiting for a response before swatting me upside the head.

“It was really really hot mama I swear!” The words came out gross and wet- I couldn’t stop the sobbing now.

“Are you trying to look like a boy? Is that what you’re fucking doing?”

There was a spike in her pitch, a crack that I had never heard in her voice before when scolding me. The way she reacted seemed over the top compared to every other time as well, even though I was sure I’d done worse than messing with something that will fix itself with time. I didn’t answer her, I was too frightened and confused by the new kind of aggression.

“Don’t you ever cut your hair ever again, do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” I blubbered, and she dropped me. I sunk to my knees and continued to sob and rub my head.

“Get up, get washed, and eat lunch. Now.”


	3. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odessa continues to try and discover who they are and what the future has in store for them, but beside a growing desperation for change is another change that they didn't want or ask for.
> 
> SO sorry for my tardiness, it's been a very busy few months but I'm excited to get back to writing again... Quick warnings for this chapter, it will involve violent familial abuse and a slightly descriptive menstruation scene.
> 
> Thank you all again for reading~

I felt very disconnected from womanhood. My mother was gruff, and my brother was only becoming more typically masculine as he got older, so the femininity that was expected from me was something I never felt was really in me at all. My body had started to change as did my wardrobe, but sitting on the back porch with my hands in my short hair felt more natural than anything that I was ever forced to do with my appearance. I was glad that hair growth took what seemed like ages, and in the heat of Summer it doubled as a little help in cooling down. That Summer, before my 14th birthday, it would be the last time I was even close to being able to find comfort in living outside the binary- changes were coming that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

I was becoming more aware of my chest at this point, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore. Even on our hottest days, I began doubling up on shirts to hide the new shapes. Just months ago they were easy enough to conceal, my only danger was a drooping neckline- but now even in my loose fitting shirts they started to show through.

I did not know any other girls, not close enough to my age where I could watch and learn from their experiences with puberty to know where to go next- let alone girls that wanted to hide it all like I did. They were like a curse that caused my whole life to shift around me. My brother wanted to hangout with me less, and my mother became a little too invested in my new clothes and maturing body. I was finally at an age where it was necessary to force me into being “ladylike”, and I received my first bra that I assumed would make me appear flatter- I was dead wrong, and severely uncomfortable.

Mama started doing other things, like telling me to help make lunch instead of playing, teaching me to do laundry on my own, and was both more protective and excited about my relationships with boys although minutes before would have banned me from being alone with one ever again, including my brother. I felt isolated, I was more alone than I’d ever been simply because I wanted it before but now? I was forced into taking on chores that from my experience only mothers should do. As I got better at each task, mama stopped doing it. She instructs me to do laundry even when she doesn’t ask, or else it won’t get done. If I don’t get started on lunch, then no one will eat. All the things the woman of the house was supposed to do now fell on me while she sat in her bed in front of the small TV.

At thirteen years old, I was being trained to become something I had no attachment to, it was something that I grew to believe meant chores and working hard at home, having breasts and liking boys and just a whole handful of other things that never made sense to me. Their idea of womanhood didn’t feel right, so therefore I must not have been a woman at all.

The idea rolled about in my skull and I let it sink in- maybe I’m not a woman at all.

All of the external changes that came with puberty were exhausting: the bra, the dresses, the chores, the inability to go play whenever I wanted… If these were all things a woman had to suffer through, I didn’t want them. As a child my brother and I did everything together, like running outside in the woods half-naked and relying on mama for everything else. Why didn’t those things change for him as he got older? Why was he still allowed to have friends and leave the house as he pleased? I wanted those times back, I wanted my short hair and overalls and walks through the swamp with my only worry being that I wouldn’t get back in time for lunch.

I wanted what the boys got.

I waited until I was sure mama was down for a lengthy nap before hopping outside to see what my brother was up to. Sure enough, he was at his crude homemade shack. His hands were bloody, and as I approached I noticed his whole body was splattered with blood. I never came this close to his shack, I never found any interest at all in the idea of hunting and killing, even as I ate what he caught I pushed the thought far away so that I could enjoy a full stomach. But now I was so close that the hot smell of blood and death permeated my senses- I felt it sinking into my clothes like cigarette smoke and it made me equally nauseous, maybe even more so.

“A little overdressed for the weather ain’t ya?” He spoke in a low, uninterested tone as I came closer. He continued to wipe off the blades he had set aside on a small wood bench. I was wearing double shirts, no inconvenient bra, and an old pair of his jeans that no longer fit so they were passed down to me, but it was better than what my mother would have chosen.

I was already brimming with anxiety at the sight and smell of the place, but I wanted to investigate further, I wanted to do things with my sibling again and forget about the new things I was supposed to do and experience something that wasn’t just mama’s chores.

“Can I help?” I finally blurted out. With what, I had no idea. I was crossing my fingers and hoping that I wouldn’t have to touch anything gross or look too long at the bodies, but instead of giving me a task he just stared at me.

“Is mama not giving you enough to do or something? Look at you, all grown up and busy…” He replied with a sneer, “This is man’s work, got it? No lady needs to get all bloody and shit.”

“I don’t wanna be a lady,” I had spoke without thinking- although it was the truth, how I honest to God felt, saying out loud would sound how they would say “stupid”.

“You’re stupid.”

I knew he’d say that.

He huffed loudly and gave me a sour look as he wiped the blood on his jeans. I was suddenly feeling much grosser, as if just being near this place was like bathing in the blood myself. I started rubbing my head and avoiding his eyes. I shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“You wanna be a man then? Is that what you want?” 

“No… I don’t know… I just don’t like being a lady is all.”

“Whatever,” He barely let me finish before waving his hand in my face and motioning for me to follow, “I have somethin’ you can do alright.”

I eagerly follow, but there’s a feeling like standing in quicksand around my legs as he brushes past the shab curtain over the shack entrance and holds it open so that I can duck in after him. The sight and smell of the scene in front of me was almost too much and I retched into my arm.

Across the 4 feet of creaky floorboards was unrecognizable body parts, blood, and cloth thrown every which where to soak up the mess, or at least I assumed. At the far end was a table long enough to touch both walls... And to hold a decapitated gator on top. I gagged again at the combination of all of these nasty things and tried to catch my breath without convulsing. Bradley just pushed past me, unfazed by all the carnage that he caused and continued to prepare tools to finish dismembering the gator. Things were quiet for a moment, and I thought maybe he expected me to realize what I was suppose to do and get to it- but he soon spoke up.

"You ready to prove yourself then?" He didn't look at me, his hands were full with the tail of the giant reptile as it was constantly slipping from the table. I simply nodded in response. I really didn't know if I was ready.

"You just gotta do one thing and you'll have my respect, okay?" From the table behind him he produced a small plastic cup, from the pale fuchsia and fading flower print it was one of mine as a toddler just learning to drink without a lid. But now it looked grimy and old, and something else about it was... Off. I lifted my head a little higher to peak inside, and I wasn't entirely sure what was inside. The liquid was dark and unusually thick and only filled the cup about halfway.

"Drink all of it and we'll be square."

"What... Is it?"

"Doesn't matter, you wanna be grown? A big man? Don't be a pussy."

He shoved it closer to my face and once again a gag rumbled up from my gut at the realization of just what he expected me to ingest in its entirety- blood.

"Bradley, gross! I'll get sick!" I'm used to his usual retort- screaming at me, calling me names, egging me on to do dangerous things and all for what? But I would have never expected him to grab me like he did, to force my mouth open and cram that plastic cup between my teeth and yank my head back until the warm red liquid started spilling down my throat despite my protests. I was retching and wiggling and trying so hard to get out of his grip before I inevitably puked. Any attempt at a scream was futile and only ended up making it difficult to breath until finally he released me.

"Mama-" I instinctively called out to her, although quietly and with a gurgly, wavering voice. As I expected, the burning vomit came up and I threw myself out of the shack to empty my stomach into the grass. Bradley had nothing to say to me. He continued his work in the shack as if nothing happened... But even with the disgusting sound of me puking my guts up I could hear him huffing and chopping at the gator with more aggression than before. Once I felt that I could handle the walk back inside and to the bathtub without getting sick again, I stumbled to the house and in through the screen door.

"What the hell happened now?" Mama's voice sprung up from the kitchen, and I knew it was too late to try and hide the smelly, bloody mess that covered my fave and neck.

"I don't feel good... Bath..." Was all I could muster, but she came closer to inspect anyway. She yanked the hand towel from the counter and began roughly wiping at my face. I felt much nastier than I was, but my clothes didn't get nearly as gross as I thought- just the neckline of my two t-shirts.

"Did you sit on something?" Mama asked suddenly, tugging at my jeans and trying to spread the folds for a better look. I shrugged away and started patting my butt for myself but didn't catch anything- until I guided my fingers lower and noticed my pants were way more moist than they should be from just sweat alone. I took off for the bathroom and shut the door so that I could strip to find out what was wrong... But I really wish I hadn't.

"Get your ass back here and let me check!" She yelled from the hallway, coming toward the bathroom where I stood with my pants down, staring wide-eyed down in horror at the mess that was in them. 

My underwear were dyed crimson, so much that it had bled through into my jeans and soaked it all from back to front. When did that happen? Why now? My gut hurt in a way I never felt, I thought it was just the nausea of having to suffer through that morgue of a shack but this was a whole new agony. I started to cry, still standing there with my hands in front of me and my jeans around my ankles when my mother came in without knocking, already holding a clean set of clothes for me.

"About time this happened, here I thought you were gonna be later than I was," She spoke with a laugh- this was funny to her, a normal part of life that we should expect at some point.

"You're just a real lady now is all, hurry and clean up, then I'll show you how to use this shit," She waved a small plastic-wrapped item in front of me before tossing it onto the counter and promptly left me alone. Alone to think about what this meant, how my life changes were being solidified, how I was no longer a free-roaming child anymore.

I sat in the tub for who knows how long, pickling in the filthy water mixture of blood, sweat, tears and lightly scented soap... Wondering what to do next with my life- if I survived it.


End file.
